Ridiculous Riddikulus
by shinobi-turtleducks
Summary: What is Oliver Wood's Boggart in his final year at Hogwarts? What is his worst ever nightmare? It really shouldn't be this awkward, but hey- a man needs his sport.


Ridiculous Riddikulus

Katie Bell ploughed into the earth of the Quidditch pitch, followed by Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, forming a pile up. Fred and George knocked each other out with their Beaters bats and plummeted to the ground, Dementors had staged a pitch invasion and were attacking Harry, Oliver was screaming and Marcus Flint had caught the Snitch. It was all over. Slytherin had won the Quidditch cup, and Oliver Wood would never lead his team to glory. He had failed at his last chance. It was a scene from his worst nightmares.

"R..R..riddikulus...riddikulus..."

It wasn't working. The Boggart still taunted himk with his worst fear, his nightmare, until...

"RIDDIKULUS!" Professor Lupin brandished his wand, and the Boggart retreated into its cupboard.  
>Shaking, Oliver looked around his Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom. His friends were speechless, and he could have <em>sworn <em>that Professor Lupin was fighting an urge not to laugh out loud, and failing miserably. The professor fought to compose himself.

"Well," he said brightly, still faintly smiling. "That was a rather... intriguing Boggart, Mr Wood. I'm guessing that you are a Quidditch fan?"  
>Abandoning his embarrassment, Oliver glowered. "QUIDDITCH IS MY LIFE! IT'S THE ONLY THING WORTH LIVING FOR! IF I DON'T WIN THE QUIDDITCH CUP THIS YEAR THEN I'LL GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS THE CAPTAIN WHO COULDN'T WIN IT ONCE OUT OF SEVEN BLOODY YEARS! AND MY SEEKER FAINTS WHEN DEMENTORS COME NEAR HIM AND IS IN THE HOSPITAL WING! Bloody Cedric Diggory." He then began to pace, muttering feverishly. His classmates looked stunned. They knew he was serious about Quidditch, but <em>this<em> serious? Yep.

He had been known to schedule training sessions in blizzards, storms, and once even in a mild hurricane. Professor McGonagall had been forced to rescue him from a tree perilously close to the Whomping Willow, where he had been blown into the top branches, broomstick making a bid for the Astronomy tower. Harry Potter in the third year class had told horror stories of endless diagrams and tactics, and Angelina Johnson had informed them all of the numerous times he had- literally- woken the team up at the crack of dawn in order to train. And they'd all seen Harry fall off his broom during the last game... Gryffindor was doomed.

Professor Lupin nodded for the class to break up, and handed the shaking boy some chocolate.  
>"It always makes me feel better when I'm upset. Makes Harry feel better too."<br>Oliver felt bad. "I wasn't blaming Harry," he muttered gruffly. "It's just..."

Lupin smiled. "Harry is affected differently by the Dementors because of the horrors in his past. I will not disclose his personal secrets, but I am doing my best to help him. Believe it or not, he has a plan..."

The game was on. Gryffindor was playing well, and Harry looked like he had seen the Snitch. All was going well. Oliver had his fingers tightly crossed on both hands, wrapped aronud his broom. And his toes. And ankles. If they could just hold the lead... And Harry could catch the Snitch while they were more than fifty points up ("So you must catch it only if we're more than fifty points up. Only if we're more than fifty points up, Harry, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, haven't you? You must catch the Snitch only if we're - *at this point Harry had shouted at him to shut up or else*). He hoped Harry would remember to only catch the Snitch while they were more than fifty points up. His stomach hurt where he had been fouled with both Bludgers, but he didn't care. He had the Quidditch Face (Oliver Wood T.M.) on, and he hoped against hope that they would- THAT FOUL VILE EVIL CHEATING ROTTEN NO GOOD SCUMMY SON OF A SNITCH MALFOY HAD BETTER LET GO OF HIS SEEKERS BROOM OR HE'D KNOCK HIM INTO NEXT QUIDDITCH SEASON! WAIT! HARRY DID IT! WE WON!

Sobbing unrestrained, he grabbed Harry around the neck and bawled his eyes out with a fierce joy. Drowning under a wave of scarlet and gold, he (still weeping) pressed the cup into his Favourite Ever Person In The History Of The World Ever In His Life AKA Harry Potter Youngest Seeker In A Century And All Round Best Ever Person Oliver Had Met. T.M.

They had done it. They had beaten Slytherin, the Boggart, the doubters, won the cup and succeeded in Oliver's lifelong ambition of winning the cup.

He had done it. 


End file.
